Cancer.
The word clouds the air around me like a cloying fog. Sickening. Depressing. Wrong. Reminding me that it took my mother eleven years ago. Dr. Bogner didn’t sugar-coat anything either. She educated me the best she could. They took blood and urine to test for cancer. Now it’s a waiting game. My appointment with Dr. Wilkinson on Monday will shed more light as to what we’re looking at.
“Did you take your meds?” Drew asks as he saunters into his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips. His chest is mouthwateringly beautiful. All hard curves of tanned muscle. And that “V”…
“Uh, yeah. I took them.” I frown as he plucks the button on his jeans and unzips them. He’s not wearing underwear and the thick root of his cock is visible where his jeans are open. Heat floods through me. If he wasn’t playing doctor, I’d beg him to fuck me.
But for the three days that we’ve been at his house, he’s waited on me hand and foot. Certainly hasn’t made love to me. I think he’s afraid he’ll break me. Luckily for him, I’m already broken.
“Did you need help with your homework?” he asks, his hands on his hips. My eyes fall to the fact his jeans have slid down his hips some.
“Yes, Dad,” I taunt.
Speaking of Dad, I still don’t know what Drew said to my father to get him to agree to let me stay with him this week. Drew took off from work because I was told by the doctor that I’m not to be in school until after this surgery. Dad had to go to the school and get my coursework from my teachers.
Drew’s eyes darken as he roams his gaze over my body. I’m wearing one of his big T-shirts but I didn’t put on anything underneath. Lazily, I drag the hem of the shirt up my thighs to reveal my pussy. A sharp exhalation of air escapes him.
“Sophia,” he warns.
“What Daddy?” I can’t help but taunt him. He may as well be my dad for the way he’s been acting since we left the hospital. “Are you going to spank me if I talk back? If I touch myself?” I bite my lip as I let my fingertips flutter over my sex.
He growls. “Enough.”
“Or what? You’ll punish me? Will you take that belt”—I point at the one around his waist—“and spank my bottom? Hmmmm, Daddy?”
“Fucking stop,” he snaps.
My gaze falls to his cock that’s now straining in his jeans. If I could get him close enough to touch, I’d pull it out and plead with my lips and tongue for him to stop treating me like a glass doll.
“We can’t have sex, so stop looking at my cock like you want to swallow it whole.” His jaw clenches in anger but his greedy eyes are between my thighs.
I pull my hand away and wiggle my wet fingers at him. “I do want to swallow it whole. Do you think I could? I’ve never sucked cock before. Is that what you want? To fuck my face, Daddy?”
His snarl is furious as he pounces. My heart rate skips a beat. He manages to shove his jeans down his thighs and he strokes his veiny cock slowly right near my face.
“Stop calling me that,” he hisses.
I reach up and touch the bead of pre-cum on his tip. “What, Daddy?”
“Goddammit, Soph, you’re really pushing my fucking buttons.” I can tell he’s doing everything in his power not to mount my face and fuck it. Pushing his buttons is the most fun I’ve had in days.
“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, Dad—”
He cuts off my words when he grips my jaw and jerks my mouth open. And not so gently, he begins feeding his cock into my mouth. The salty taste makes me hungry for him. When I look up at him as he gingerly starts sliding in and out of my mouth, his blue-black eyes are lost to madness. He grips my messy hair with one hand and caresses my cheek with the other. It encourages me and I start using my tongue. I try to relax my throat some too because he really seems to want to put his dick there. The moment I do, he pushes hard into me. My first reflex is to gag but I breathe through my nose to keep from doing it. As if he can tell I’m struggling, he eases it back out of my throat.
“You just had to push and push. Look where that got you, bad girl. Got you my fat cock down your throat. You going to push my buttons anymore?” He pulls all the way out, sending slobber running down my chin, as he waits for my answer.
“No, Daddy,” I breathe, flashing him a wicked naughty girl grin.
He growls and then his cock is sliding deep into my throat again. Hissing and grunting, he fucks my face as though he’ll die if he doesn’t. I do gag when he doesn’t let up and tears run down my cheeks. Thankfully, he slides back out to let me breathe.
“Aww,” he sneers, his cock jolting in his grip. “Look at the crybaby. Can’t handle the dick.”
“I’m the crybaby?” I smirk. “You’re the one who’s afraid to fuck me. Newsflash, ass, you can’t hurt me.”
“I can’t hurt you because you’re already broken!” he roars and points at my hip.
“You won’t hurt me because you’re a pussy!” I scream back at him. “Too afraid to hurt your precious girl. Won’t fuck her because you’re weak! Mr. I’m Afraid of Nothing, is afraid of a teenager!” I sit up to start clawing at him to push every last button he has when he pounces on me. His hand encircles my throat and he pins me down on the bed. Our half-naked bodies are pressed together. His hard wet cock is pressed against the bare outer thigh of my good leg.
“You’re being a psycho,” he snaps, his grip tightening around my throat so that I have to hiss for air.
“You can’t hurt me.” My words are hardly a whisper.
He snarls and his body quakes with fury. “Don’t test me, girl.”
Girl.
Fuck him.
I spit in his face and then try to claw him. The asshole is quicker and he rolls me onto my stomach. His bony elbow pins my spine down. And then I hear it.
Swoosh.
Oh shit.
Smack!
Fire rips across my ass when he whips me with his belt. I turn my head to the side and scream. “YOU CAN’T HURT ME!”
Smack! Smack! Smack!
He whips me but not hard enough. Still, in all his rage, he holds back. I manage to find his thigh with my hand and dig my nails into him. He jerks my wrist away and then immediately hits me harder with his belt. The sting makes me whimper. This kind of pain is hot and refreshing. Not the dull, familiar hip pain I live with day in and day out.
“You’re nothing but a spoiled brat,” he snaps. “Why can’t you just let me take care of you?”
He doesn’t whip me again because his fingers are caressing my ass instead. Then his finger is diving between my thighs and inside of my soaked pussy.
“Mmm,” I moan. “Fuck me.”
His growl is maniacal. “No. Your hip cannot take this shit right now.”
“Fuck me or I’ll leave,” I threaten.
He laughs, cold and cruel. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ll tie your ass to the bed again. You’re mine, Soph. Fucking mine.”
“THEN MAKE ME YOURS!”
His finger slowly teases me but it’s not enough. I’m overcome with defeat and give in to loud, ugly sobs. My ass hurts. My hip hurts. My heart hurts.
“I-I just need you. I d-don’t want to think about w-what Dr. Bogner said,” I rasp out, my body wracking with emotion.
His finger stills within me and then he’s dragging it out, smearing my wetness along my thigh. “Come here,” he murmurs softly as he rolls me back over. His hands slide under my arms and he lifts me. I latch onto his neck with my arms and wrap my legs around his waist. He palms my ass to hold me up. A hot, throbbing cock is wedged between us.
“I just need you,” I whisper again, my lips pressed at his throat.
He lifts my ass and then his cock impales my wet channel. It surprises me so much so that I cry out. Leaning back, he regards me with emotion-filled navy blue eyes. His mouth meets mine and he kisses me in a reverent way. Neither of us moves. He just holds me as he kisses me. Once we’re breathless, he pulls away again.
“I know you’re not made of glass,” he says, a frown tugging at his handsome features. “I just feel…” Guilt shines in his eyes. “I feel fucking responsible.”
I scoff and shake my head. “Umm, why?”
He swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I could have—”
I silence him with a kiss. Then, I grab his shoulders to use as leverage. Slowly, I rock up and down along his thick shaft. This position feels good—fills up every part of me with him. Pain radiates from my hip but I can ignore it. Soon, pleasure will numb it as I soar into oblivion. His guilt must take a backseat because he soon urges my movements—taking over doing the hard work—and sucks on my bottom lip. I moan as my head falls back. His teeth nip at my throat. Not softly. Brutally. As though he wants his mark left on me for days for all to see.
“Touch your pussy,” he demands before biting me again. “Come all over my cock, bad girl.”
I slide my fingers to my clit and massage myself like he usually does. My senses are on fire. Everything feels like too much. Also, not enough.
“More,” I beg. “More. More. More.”
He bucks into me hard from beneath. I’m his to use and abuse. I want all of him, always.
“I want you to come, Soph,” he mutters against my flesh. “I’m going to come all inside you and I want your pussy milking every drop out of my cock. Come on, baby. Take yourself over the edge.” His throaty, growled words make me crazy. I close my eyes and lose myself to the sensations. And within moments, I’m tipped right off the cliff of sanity. With a scream, I lose myself to the pleasure.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his cock gushing out his orgasm inside me. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
I pull away to stare at him even as his cock still throbs inside me. His blue eyes are soft and adoring. I want to see them forever.
He looks at you the same way your dad looked at your mother.
The thought hits me so suddenly I think I might vomit. If this thing inside of me is cancerous, it’s over. All of this budding between us will be extinguished. I won’t force him to endure what my father did. What my sister and I went through. My mind drifts to my past in an instant.
“I’m taking Mommy on a little drive. Miss Edna is going to watch you and your sister,” Daddy tells Olivia and me.
“I want to go on a drive too,” I tell him. I squeeze my stuffed cat to my chest. If we go for a drive, I don’t want to forget Mr. Meow. We forgot him once when we went to a vacation on the beach when I was four and I cried the entire time.
Daddy drops to his knee and holds his big strong arms out for Olivia and me. Both of us rush over to him. He seems sad even though he’s smiling. His smile quivers like the Jell-O Mommy used to make when she wasn’t sick all the time.
“I’ll take you both on a drive another day. I promise,” he chokes out as he kisses us both on the tops of our heads.
“When will you come back?” Olivia asks. She’s eight and two years older than me so she asks smart questions like that.
“Will you bring us back ice cream?” I can ask smart questions too.
Daddy pulls away and tears shimmer in his eyes. It makes my stomach hurt seeing him look so sad. I don’t like it. “I’ll take you two for ice cream just as soon as I can,” he assures us as he stares at me, his eyes looking all over my face as if he’s counting all my freckles.
“And Mommy too,” I remind him. She’s already waiting in the car.
Daddy’s eyebrows pinch together as if I’ve whopped him in the head with Mr. Meow. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Daddy,” I say, my voice urgent. “And Mommy too.”
His gaze flits past us to Miss Edna. “Don’t let them stay up too late,” he instructs, his voice scratchy. A tear sneaks out of his eye and I’m confused. Daddies don’t cry. Our daddy especially doesn’t cry.
“Daddy,” I whine. “Mommy too!”
“Sophia,” Olivia whispers. “Stop.”
He lets us go and rises to his full height. Our daddy is strong and tall. Like the wrestlers Uncle Mathias watches on TV. “Goodbye, girls.”
“Daddy!” I cry out and throw my arms around his leg. “Why are you ignoring me?” I burst into tears and sob into his leg.
He strokes my hair. “I’m not ignoring you,” he coos, his voice soft and reassuring. “I just don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.”
When he starts to push me away, I throw a tantrum. At six, I don’t have them often but right now I’m confused and upset and angry. Miss Edna has to yank me from my daddy. He throws one more sad look our way before he hurries out the door. I break free from Edna and chase him outside. He sits inside the car and leans in to whisper something to Mommy. She starts to cry but then bravely lifts her chin at me and meets my stare.
I love you, she mouths to me.
She waves and Daddy starts the car.
Olivia stands beside me on the porch steps and hands me Mr. Meow. “You forgot this.”
I take the plush cat and heave it as far as I can throw it before stomping back inside. Something is happening. My heart hurts because I feel like we’ll never go get ice cream as a family again.
He took my mother to the hospital to die. Of course they didn’t know how close to death’s door she was, but she never came home. We never saw her again. Her sad face as she waved goodbye is my last memory of my mother.
Cancer.
Fucking cancer.
It had spread to her lymph nodes from her pancreas. They had her on the table removing the nodes when she died. Without warning. Just dead. There was no bringing her back. The cancer had diseased her organs with the fire of a thousand suns. Ravaged through her, decimating everything that was lively and beautiful in its path.
Dad came back haunted. Changed. Hardened. He closed off that part of his heart up until recently. Her death broke my father. She was the love of his life.
I’ve always wanted to ask him if with today’s technological advances, could she have lived? Could radiation or chemotherapy have killed the cancer and let her live? Was the surgery what her body simply couldn’t handle?
Unease clenches my stomach into a fist. What if when they go in to retrieve this tumor, I die too? How would Dad take losing another person he loves on the operating table? Would Drew be devastated like my father was?
“Sophia.” My name spoken from his perfect lips stills my panic for a brief moment. I get lost in his expressive blue eyes. For one second, life isn’t hard or stressful or painful. It’s just happy. With Drew, I’m able to live a little. “You left me.” Hurt is in his voice. Hard and accusing.
Emotion clogs my throat and I tear my gaze from his. My eyes fall to his bedside table. A fancy lamp. Some pricy piece of decoration beside it. No personalization. I think about my father’s bedside table. A picture of him and his daughters. Another of Dorian and him.
It occurs to me that Drew is always so focused on me but I don’t know much about him. I have no idea if he has family or children from a previous marriage. I know nothing.
His fingers bite into my jaw as he turns my face until it’s facing him again. Long gone are the soft eyes—replaced with a flicker of fear but mostly anger. “Talk to me,” he says coolly.
I swallow and pull his hand from my jaw. “I know nothing about you.”
His lip curls up as if he’s about to laugh at me. “I’m inside you this very moment. You’ve been staying with me for days. I’ve spent every available moment with you for nearly two weeks. Not to mention, your sister has been with my best friend for over a year now. What more is there to know? Fuck, you know me better than anyone.”
“You never talk about your parents or siblings. Your family…” I trail off.
He clenches his jaw. “My parents and younger sister were killed in a car accident when I was seventeen. I’d been at a football game. I played the entire game thinking they were in the crowd watching. They never made it.” His breath comes out in a swoosh. “That better? I can assure you, you know everything there is to know about Andrew Hamilton.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathe.
He looks away. “It was a long time ago.”
I open my mouth to tell him what I was thinking—that I don’t want to die like my mom did—but his phone rings and interrupts the moment. Gently, he pulls me off his softened cock and sets me on the bed beside him. He climbs off, his ass muscles flexing, as he saunters off to grab his phone.
“It’s Drew,” he barks in greeting as he disappears into the bathroom.
I can hear him explaining something to someone in clipped tones. Perhaps another therapist. His expression is guarded when he returns carrying a wet cloth. Despite his outwardly angry mood, he’s sweet as he cleans me between my thighs. His eyes latch on to mine for a long moment before he tears them away to start dressing.
The moment he’s gone, my heart aches inside my chest.
Drew is the real deal. He’s a mean ass and slightly crazy but I love his intensity. The way he looks at me is the way I want to be looked at. As though I am everything.
So I need to be everything.
I’ll talk to the doctor about chemo or radiation or something.
Having them slice me open and take me from this world like they took my mother isn’t an option. Drew needs me and I need him. Technology is way too advanced to die by some archaic method. If for some reason the tumor shows up benign, I’ll learn to live with it. I’ve read articles where they can shrink tumors in non-surgical ways. I’m used to the pain and the inability to move. It will be fine.
It. Will. Be. Fine.
I’m not going to die.
I refuse to die.